


Cross the Line

by hawkeing_eta



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Drabble, Insomnia, M/M, Prompt Fill, improper use of math
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkeing_eta/pseuds/hawkeing_eta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann stays up late, and although Newton had already gone to bed, he still manages to make Hermann blush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cross the Line

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for sleepy_firebug. Prompt was "cross the line."
> 
> beta'ed by [sleepy_firebug](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_firebug/pseuds/sleepy_firebug).

The scratch and squeak of a pencil against old working paper; soft, monotone numbers mumbled into the faint, raising dust and otherwise perturbed silence of a (half) empty lab. The stub of an old, worn down pencil is tossed almost carelessly to a small bin—there is still a sense of routine to it—and a new one is pulled from a box. It screeches far too loudly. Hermann does not seem to notice. Numbers are all he sees and hears; he wants to keep it that way. 

The pencil already needs to be sharpened again and the numbers he is looking at are not what he wants to see. 

Hermann sighs, exasperated, and leans back in his chair as he pushes a small pile of work papers away from himself. They do not stay in that nice, proper pile as they slide across the desk, some fluttering to the floor. Hermann will fix it later, once his mind is not so wrapped up in numbers and he can see things besides them. He is always confident in his work and knows there are not any mistakes or missed steps; numbers do not lie and for once he wishes there was an exception. Mostly for the sake of convenience because this probability would prove to be far too inconvenient, and Newton would never let him live it down if he were to find out.

There is other work that needs to be done but it is far too late in the night and Hermann needs a small break from the workload; his predictive model is nearly complete, only missing a few pieces of data and an inaccuracy of only a few days. It is not enough, though. His hand absently rubs at his knee and thigh before he stands and carefully makes his way down the elevated section of his side of the lab. The quiet thud of his cane echoes a little more than he likes. 

There are nights where even Newton needs to stop and get some sleep, as farfetched as he makes that seem. But at about 0400 hours, even Hermann can admit to himself that the bout of insomnia he is having tonight is bad. It is hardly the first time and far from the last. 

For a moment, Hermann considers his options: that simulation on the dilation of the Breach is almost complete; the Mark I Jaeger's weapons coding needs updating and proofing; the (not-so because he has in fact done it before) countless rivets in his barrack's ceiling could be counted, like sheep as he attempts to be reasonable and lie in bed. That option is obviously out of the question—he has the energy now, he is not going to waste it with a pointless attempt. With a soft swear under his breath he makes his way to the looming chalkboards against the far wall to map out more of the coding and maybe go over some earlier work on his predictive model. 

His chalk is not where he usually keeps it, and that is his first red flag. They have set up rules. They have set up guidelines—figuratively and literally. Hermann does not trust Newton with these things. On the far left of the railing, where chalk dust had gathered much too high but is noticeably disturbed, is the stick he had been using. Just above, a small section of his board had been erased and in its place a simple group of equations written in, what Hermann can only describe as, chicken scratch. 

y = .75x^(2/3) + √(1-x^2)  
y = .75x^(2/3) - √(1-x^2)

Thankfully it had not replaced anything important—that section of board was to be cleaned soon anyway. Hermann is about to erase the useless function when he pauses, and out of a whim, graphs them out quickly in his head. It only takes him a moment to do before his brows furrow. They are erased quickly after that and Hermann catches himself thinking of at least three other ways of better graphing such a thing and that causes a blush to creep up onto his cheeks out of embarrassment of such a childish whim. This is juvenile.

Hermann is still for a moment, and considers the small pile of papers on the elevated section of his side of the lab. The numbers may need some adjusting.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a few months old; I just now decided to clean it up and post it. 
> 
> I can't find my graphing calculator to save my life so I had to use graphing programs I found online. If there is any problems with the math, let me know. I'll check it again and fix it up. 
> 
> feel free to leave a prompt in [my ask](http://poudriere.tumblr.com/ask). They're always appreciated.


End file.
